The Right Thing
by tonightweareyoung
Summary: He didn't care about the consequences. She deserved it. But he loved her so much, and he still loved her, even as he aimed the gun at her head.


**The Right Thing**

**A/N: **Hello! This is a collab with my friend, who doesn't have an FF account so I posted it up. Let me know how you like it. This is quite AU. She wrote the parts with the priest with a little research, so please forgive me if we got anything wrong, we didn't mean for it to be offensive/hurtful/wrong, etc.

I don't own Glee.

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><p><em>Doing the "right" thing is subjective. A criminal can justify his actions of stealing from the bank by saying he only meant to bring home some food for his family.<em>

_A friend can withhold the truth and tell a white lie in order to prevent the hurt, or even prevent a dent in the friendship itself from happening._

_Someone can lie to get someone else out of trouble. People push boundaries for the person they love. A person can go against the law to save a person's life._

_Doing the "right" thing may not seem like the right thing to others, but if you asked anyone who's done something objectionable in their life, they would have a justifiable reason. Likewise, I made a mistake, but in the end, I did the right thing. _

**Finn's fingers trembled as he picked up the gun. The black cold metal pressed against his hand; the hand that had held hers for so many times, the hand that had cupped her small face and tilted her head up to kiss those soft lips for the first time. He laughed an empty laugh and she stared at him with wide eyes, those big blue eyes he had fallen for. **_**Maybe this was a mistake**_**. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Quinn stood there, quivering, her face white, her eyes too big for her face. Her eyes. Those eyes.**

He remembered the first time he'd seen those eyes.

He had been at a conference in sunny Vermont, away from the chaotic city of New York. Quinn had come in carrying a tray of coffee and tea for the committee. Everyone passed her by as if she was the usual secretary bringing in coffee and tea. But not him.

His hands started sweating furiously with nervousness, just like the time when he was ten and had come home from school to find his father waiting for him. Except this time, Finn was nervous with excitement, not fear.

Quinn walked around asking whether they wanted tea or coffee, yet her dignified countenance did not allow her to appear lower than those she was serving. When she reached his seat at the head of the table, she smiled a pretty smile, her piercing blue eyes staring into his, "Tea or coffee, sir?" He'd stared at her then, unsure what to do. A moment of silence passed before she continued, "I highly suggest coffee. I made it myself." And she had winked discreetly before continuing on.

**She had always been a sly one. Of that, Finn was certain.**

**He tried desperately to soothe his nerves as he looked down at the pistol. Never had he used it before, and when Quinn convinced him to get one, saying she was scared of being alone when he wasn't around, he'd made sure to get the best, because he wanted to please her.**

**It seemed as if he'd always wanted to please her. He should have known she would hurt him like this. Yet as he trailed his fingers down the black pistol, a voice in the back of his head told him it was the other way around. He should've known he would hurt her like this. **

It was a whirlwind romance. It seemed only minutes had passed before Quinn was walking down the aisle and she and Finn said their vows. It wasn't long before being married settled in on them and the actuality of what it meant came down upon them.

"Honey, I've got another business trip in two days." Finn said one day.

Quinn sighed, "Another one? You've only been home for two weeks."

"Yes, I know, but this will be a quick one. I promise." Finn kissed her on the cheek softly, breathing in her scent of shampoo and roses.

"That's what you said last time," Quinn muttered.

Finn's voice turned hard and stony. "I moved here for you. I moved away from my business in New York to live here with you. You could have moved to New York to be with me, but you said you liked the country life better. So here we are, in Vermont, like you wanted. What do you want from me?"

Fear crawled over Quinn's heart. He had never talked this way before. "Oh alright. I'm just being moody right now." She ran her fingers through his dark hair. "But come back quickly."

Finn smiled, "I promise."

He stayed in New York for three weeks.

**As Finn got ready to pull the trigger, his mind flashed back to his earliest memory of his father abusing him. He remembered how his father's eyes had flashed in anger and a mix of emotions had crossed his face. Pain, regret, and anger convulsed his large frame as he raised his hand and struck Finn across the face. Finn didn't remember what he had done. All he knew was that immediately afterwards, his father had knelt down and pulled him into a hug, promising over and over that he would never do it again. He never kept his promise. **

"Finn," Quinn said one night, resting in the crook of his arm.

"Mmm?" Finn's muffled sigh told her he was on the brink of falling asleep.

"Do you… have you…" she stuttered, "ever wanted a baby?"

"Of course not." Finn was suddenly awake, his usually soft brown eyes turning serious.

"Well, why not?" Quinn demanded, ready to start a debate.

Finn groaned and rolled over. "Let's not get into this."

There was silence. Then, "Why?"

Finn sat up abruptly, "I said no."

Quinn's eyes flashed angrily as she too, sat up. "Well, I guess that's too bad then, because I'm pregnant."

With widened eyes, Finn slowly turned around and stared at her. "Get an abortion."

More silence. Then, as if nothing had happened, Quinn laid back down, turned her back on Finn, pulled the covers up, and shut her eyes. She shut them tight so that the tears threatening to surface wouldn't spill over, so that the ache in her heart wouldn't seem too obvious.

Maybe if she shut her eyes really tight, she could block everything out, block out her dreams, block out the reality of the situation, block out the fact that for the first time in her life, she had wondered whether she'd made a mistake in marrying him.

**Quinn's heart was pounding loudly, as if in beat with a death march. Her eyes grew wide with terror and her whole body shook like a defenseless animal.**

"**Why?" she asked in a barely audible tone.**

"**You know why," he said, looking her straight in the eye. "You know why."**

Finn picked up Quinn's worn out trench coat and stroked the soft fabric. He remembered the way Quinn's eyes had lit up when he'd brought home the expensive gift after his 2 week business trip to Las Vegas. "This is for waiting so patiently for me to come home." He'd smiled as he handed the beautiful coat to her. Quinn had looked down then and fumbled with the buttons of the coat, as if they were the most interesting things she had ever seen.

Finn's tired eyes fluttered to a close as he lifted the coat to his nose, expecting to smell the light smell Quinn's perfume offered.

Yet the scent that reached his nose wasn't Quinn's – no, it was an Old Spice cologne that clashed with his knowledge of Quinn's perfume. Finn had always worn any perfume but Old Spice, the perfume his father used to wear, arousing unpleasant memories of the past.

His mind sifted through the many possibilities of why he'd smell this scent, on Quinn's coat of all things, and rested on one conclusion. No, it couldn't be.

Quinn would never cheat on him. He remembered the way her blue eyes had shone as she spoke their marriage vows, _I Quinn Fabray, take you Finn Hudson, to be my wedded husband. To love and to hold, from this day forward… hereto I pledge you my faithfulness._ He remembered nights when she had whispered into his shoulder how much she loved him. It couldn't happen. Not now.

**He didn't care about the consequences. She deserved it. He loved her so much, and he still loved her, even as he aimed the gun at her head.**

Finn entered the small dingy parish located in a discreet part of Vermont. He had never been a religious person, yet he had felt a compelling need to make a quick visit.

His nose wrinkled up at the musty smell of the office he had entered, and his eyes searched for a priest. He found a man sitting at the desk, writing hurriedly on a piece of paper with an intent look on his face.

The Seal of the Confessional was strictly confidential. Finn had to stop the guilt that had been haunting him for these past few days. "Father, I've come to confess." Finn said. "I'm going to kill my wife."

The man looked up and stopped writing, ink spreading into a stain on his paper.

There was silence in the office, hanging heavy above both men's heads. "Well then, we should have a talk. I'm Noah Puckerman."

When Finn left the office, the man stopped him in his tracks. "What did you say her name was?"

"Quinn," Finn answered clearly, "her name is Quinn." As Finn stepped out of the office, he caught a whiff of something that smelled remarkably like Old Spice.

**Quinn had a miscarriage. She wouldn't speak to Finn for days afterwards. Finn laughed bitterly at the recollection. He hadn't wanted a baby for reasons different from what she had accused him of. He was scared. He was so dreadfully scared he would turn out like his father. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Yet as he pulled the trigger, he realized he had.**

The phone rang, a ring that didn't happen much in the small town in Vermont. Sherriff Dave Jones answered the phone.

"There's going to be a killing." A voice muffled. Quickly giving the location, the speaker hung up, leaving the Sherriff sitting in a languid silence.

**Finn regretted it the moment he pulled the trigger.**

The gunshot rang out. Sirens filled the night sky, a shrill wail against the silence that sounded too loud in their ears. The priest was lying in front of Quinn, who stood there with a dazed expression.

_In those last moments of my life, everything seemed almost surreal, like it was a dream. I couldn't understand why I couldn't open my eyelids, why there was a woman crying, a man shouting; I didn't even know why I was there. I was barely conscious when I faintly felt a hand feel my wrist as I slipped away into unconsciousness. I couldn't remember what had happened, but the blood pounded in my head, in beat with the forgotten yet familiar words that resonated through my soul. "I'm doing the right thing, I'm doing the right thing."_


End file.
